Flying Solo
by Falfaly
Summary: Han/Leia: flight to Bespin smut-fic — what else are they gonna do for nearly 40 days? Oh, and these crazy kids are in love. [New fic for 2020. Warnings: l, s]
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE AND WARNINGS:**

**Lots of language in this, particularly the 'F' word, which appears 37 times.**

**Smut abounds, none kinky, but if you have tender sensibilities, you may want to turn back now.**

**Split into two sections to make it easier to read.**

* * *

**Flying Solo**

_**by CorellianBlue**_

_(first published 2020)_

_Warnings: language; sexual content_

_-1-_

* * *

"Are you going to smirk all the way to Bespin, Captain Solo?"

Han's smile widened and his gaze homed in on Leia as he stepped out from the ring corridor into the main hold of the _Millennium Falcon_, an insulated mug in each hand. Seated on the lounge at the dejarik table, her brown eyes following him, Leia looked sexy as all hell.

He had only been in the galley a few minutes—and had spent the last few hours making love and asleep with her in their bunk—but Han's heart tripped at the sight of her as if he hadn't seen her for weeks, as it always did.

Leia looked incredible; she _always_ looked incredible. Sitting here in his ship, her hair dishevelled by his hands, wearing his clothes and his scent, she had never been more beautiful and desirable. This woman with the eyes of a doe and the balls of a bounty hunter, had used both attributes to capture his heart, and she was probably none the wiser. In the two years he had pursued her, Han had never loved Leia more than he did now.

Along with his grin, Han's loose, confident gait had become smugger since Leia had decided she wanted to further explore what was going on between them. What _was_ currently going on between them was an awful lot of fucking. He'd briefly—very briefly—chanced a thought about their 12-year age difference, but he was grateful he was no longer in his twenties; if he'd been any younger, he doubted he could have satisfactorily appeased Leia's voracious sexual appetite. This woman he adored, once so sexually inexperienced, continued to surprise and delight him in bed.

When she'd approached him—60, 70 hours ago; he was unsure exactly how long—and admitted that she wanted him, she had also confessed she had no idea what she was doing. Han had recognised and accepted that. Their first time, he had been slow, gentle and tender with her, despite his desperate urge to consummate what in his mind had been two years of foreplay. He had dug deep and discovered a level of self-control and selflessness he had doubted he'd had.

Apart from having to repair some aggravating problems with the _Falcon's_ environmental control system, the two of them had spent the rest of their time in bed, getting to know each other on an intimate level. Consummating long-held desires; exploring which positions produced the most excitement, generated the most fire; discovering what aroused the other; developing fixations with otherwise innocuous body parts of each other: for him, the turn of her ankles, and the adorable mole on the lower right side of her back, just above her hip; for her, the trace of vein running from the crook of his elbows up through his biceps, and the prominent point where his clavicle met his right shoulder.

Inexperienced Leia may have been, unadventurous she was not.

They were steadily working their way through the variety of positions Han had previously tried, but invariably they kept coming back to what gave them the most pleasure and the deepest level of intimacy: he loved using his mouth and tongue to bring her to climax, and riding his narrow hips with him firmly locked within her also enflamed an intense orgasm; and while Han was grateful for any chance he got to make love with her, angling her hips up over his elbows so he could achieve long, firm thrusts inside her worked best for him.

Leia also seemed open to his (albeit joking) proposal of bringing props into bed. When he had cheekily suggested using a toolkit to conduct repairs on her, she had encouraged him to come up with something to meet her needs. He was definitely giving _that_ further consideration over the next few weeks.

Sex had dissolved all barriers between them. Where once there had been spite, frustration and irritation, now there was tenderness, thoughtfulness, affection and love.

Leia had discarded the mask she had hidden behind to keep him at bay, releasing the impish side of her nature, the side she had infrequently allowed him to see. This Leia was mischievous and teasing; easy to laughter; uncritical; undemanding.

Han had never seen Leia as relaxed as she was when he held her in his arms after they had achieved their release. The tension she usually carried in her shoulders and her eyes had disappeared. She was calm, relieved, content. It affected him deeply knowing that he had brought about this change in her; that he could make her happy and satisfy her sexually.

Leia now touched him almost as much as he touched her. Her caresses were affectionate, but also sexual. Han revelled in it. He'd always suspected Leia was like this: as passionate in private as she was in the political persona that she presented to the galaxy.

Those who had labelled her hard, distant, cold, frigid…_Ice Princess_...they could take a flying fucking leap. This was Leia. Sweet, sexy, feisty, adorable, horny Leia. And she was his, at least for the next few weeks.

Leia pulled her socked feet up onto the seat of the lounge, knees bent, legs sloped up as she pushed aside the datapad she had been reading. Han had claimed back from her the only pair of sweatpants he owned, so she now wore the tighter-fitting sleep pants that he infrequently wore, one of his t-shirts many sizes too big for her, and a pair of his thick spacer socks—and still she was the sexiest-looking woman he had even seen. Dressed in a similar, casual fashion, they looked like they were only minutes coming out of, or going back to, bed.

Han slid in next to her, placed one of the mugs in front of her and kept the one with caf in it for himself.

He trailed his fingers over her knee and down her leg, grinned at her and said matter-of-factly, "Oh, I intend smirking way past Bespin."

Leia leaned forward, sniffed the steam curling up from the mug's slotted lid.

"Gatalentan tea," Han told her. "Careful, it's hot."

Leia's grateful smile spread up to her eyes. "Thanks."

She raised a socked foot, prodded his leg with her big toe, encouraging him to continue with his comment. "How much further do you intend smirking?"

She stretched her foot fully onto his thigh, arching her toes over his firm quadricep muscles. Han dropped a hand onto her foot and gently squeezed his fingers around it.

"All the way back to the Fleet," he replied.

The rich alto of her voice assumed an amused, teasing quality. "Really? That far?"

"Even further," he continued. "Down the ramp and out into the hangar, where I'll stop and thumb my nose at any of the Rogues that happen to be loafin' around." He deliberately left out he might throw a jaunty, two-fingered salute towards the squadron leader of the Rogues, Commander Luke Skywalker.

Leia raised a knowing eyebrow. "Stopping to collect your winnings on whether you'd get to sleep with me, no doubt?"

He frowned at her reference to the widely-known betting pool about the two of them—_Kill, Maim, or Fuck_—the Rogues had been running for at least a year. Although he had casually considered placing a bet on Leia killing him at some stage, or at least kneeing him in the groin, he hadn't thought about the idea for long. The last thing the maniacs in Rogue Squadron needed were more idiots feeding their ridiculous fantasies. Now Leia had mentioned it, Han wasn't sure her remark was entirely playful.

He tried to hide the bruised edge to his ego, but couldn't help asking, "You think I'm like that?"

She swung her other foot up onto his thigh and he automatically collected her feet in his hands, removing her socks with deliberate tugs and dropping them next to him on the lounge.

"Of course not, I'm teasing," she soothed. She reached for the mug and bought it to her lips, calmly added, "I'll be the one collecting."

A brilliant smile lit his face. Fuck, he loved this woman.

"This is all a scam, is it?" he asked, his hands engulfing her tiny, bare feet, gently massaging them with his warm, long fingers "You only wanted to sleep with me so you could pick up a few spare credits?"

She gave him her serious, princess-solider face. "I've got to fill the Alliance coffers somehow."

Fuck. He loved this woman.

Leia gingerly took a sip of the hot tea. "And I hate to tell you, Han, but I don't think we've been doing much sleeping."

Han raised his eyes to the upper bulkhead. "Thought I was doin' something wrong."

She reached across, touched his elbow to draw his gaze back to hers and told him, "Sweetheart, believe me, you're doing everything right."

He gave her a small, heartfelt smile, lifted one of her feet up and kissed the top of her toes. She returned his smile.

Not for the first time, he was tempted to tell her how much he loved her. A few times, he'd come close to doing just that, but he was afraid of scaring her so early in their newfound intimacy; possibly afraid of scaring himself if he gave shape and voice to that declaration. For now, it seemed safer to hold the love he had for her within his head and instead demonstrate to her how he felt.

In increments, he was getting her (and him) used to the idea that he loved her. _His_ bunk had become became _their_ bunk; _his_ cabin, _their_ cabin; _his_ clothes, _their_ clothes; _his_ toothbrush, _their_ toothbrush. He was openly sharing everything he owned, what little it was, with her. He would gladly give her joint ownership of the _Falcon_ if she asked for it.

He was also dropping the word 'love' into his speech when describing how much he enjoyed and appreciated what she was doing to him. He'd told her he loved the way she rolled her eyes at him whenever he exasperated her; loved the way she straightened her shoulders and stiffened her jaw before approaching him, as if steeling herself against any emotion he might ignite in her; loved the haughty tilt of her chin before she launched into a verbal assault on him for some perceived transgression.

Now he loved the push of her hips against his; loved the way she arched back in response to the kisses he circled around her ear and pressed down her neck. He loved the softness of her skin, her scent, her taste. Loved the demanding sweep of her tongue in his mouth. Loved the way she kissed his name into his skin, bit her teeth into his shoulder as he thrust inside her. Loved the grip of her hands on his ass as his hips swayed above hers. Loved the keening sigh that surged into a deep-throated moan as she came. Loved how completely relaxed and blissed-out she looked after they'd made love.

On her part, Leia had admitted she was completely enamoured of him. She had jokingly and devastatingly described her infatuation with him as though she had a Sex-With-Han-Brain, telling him that she was constantly thinking about him, and usually that included fantasising about having sex with him. _Hanphomania_, she had facetiously dubbed it. He had nearly died when she had told him that.

Fuck, he loved her so much, it hurt. An ache deep in his chest that surpassed anything he'd felt in his groin, with any woman, ever.

Han was practised at ignoring the inconvenient and inconsistent truths that scarred his life, but he knew he'd have to face them by the end of this flight. He loved her. Didn't want to leave her. Couldn't imagine life without her. This was not a month-long tumble in the sheets.

As a prominent Rebel leader, Leia was a fugitive from the Empire with a bounty for her capture, and substantially more than the 200,000 credits he had accrued on his own moronic head. Han had even considered handing himself over to Jabba and claiming the reward for himself, because it would make it a hell of a lot easier to pay off his debt. But under the harsh twin suns of truth and reality, Han knew Jabba would have him killed if he returned to Tatooine.

The bounty hunter they had run into on Ord Mantell threatened both of their lives, but Han wasn't convinced he'd be placing Leia in any more danger if he instead remained with the Rebellion and dedicated his life to protecting her—from both the Empire and his own stupid decisions. He needed to spend some time working through his options and developing a solution he could live with and that would keep him alive—keep both of them alive. But he was prone to distraction by this princess-shaped woman. This woman that he loved.

Leia leaned back into the lounge, flexed her foot, deliberately snagged her smallest toe in the corner of Han's mouth and giggled as he may a show of noisily sucking on it. She wriggled and squealed as he sucked another toe and then succeeded in taking all five of them into his mouth at once.

Leveraging a foot against his chest, she half-heartedly tried to pull her toes out of his mouth, but he held on tight and added the gentle scrape of teeth to his efforts. She squealed; a high-pitched giggle reminiscent of the sound she made just before she came. His stomach sank like a stone towards his groin. Then she shrieked his name and it nearly shattered him.

A crash down near the crew quarters drew their game to a halt. The loud thud of Wookiee fists on bulkheads echoed along the ring corridor. Chewie was awake, and obviously trying to disturb them. The Wookiee's hammock was hanging in what had been the crew bunkroom, located less than five metres from their cabin. He was bashing corridor walls as he headed towards the Falcon's main communal 'fresher for his regular constitutional, no doubt aiming a few blows against the hatch to their cabin for good measure.

Han popped her foot out of his mouth as he watched Leia's eyes widen in consternation. She adjusted her position, leaned against him, one leg bent against his thigh as he snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

"Chewie's up," he explained. "He's getting us back because you kept him awake." Leia opened her mouth in protest before he added, "With all that squealing."

She swatted a hand against his shoulder, but was chuckling as she said, "I don't squeal."

He tightened his lips into a thin line, solemnly nodded. "You squeal. It's like–"

He dropped a hand dramatically against his skewed forehead, rolled his eyes in their sockets, formed his lips into an 'O', made a shrill, anguished sigh.

Laughing, Leia prodded his shoulder again. "I don't sound like that."

"No?" He grinned and looped his arms around her. "It's more like—" He made a deep-throated moan that sounded more pained than pleasured, before panting into an exaggerated imitation of her crying, "H-h-h-haaannn!"

Leia jerked a handful of his hair, directing his lips against hers and kissed him hard and fast. Belligerently not returning the kiss, Han clamped his mouth shut, doing his best to stop her tongue from slipping between his lips. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pretended to fend her away, gently tilting her torso from side to side as he play-fought her, but keeping his mouth firmly mashed against hers. She gave up when she couldn't control her laughter and pulled her face back from his.

"You can't just molest me like that," he demurely told her. "I'm not that easy."

She gave him a bemused smirk. "That's not what I know."

"What you _think_ you know and what you _really_ know—"

"I know _you_," she pointed out.

"Well, that's it then," he sighed. "All the mystery has gone from our relationship. That didn't take long."

She kissed him again; gentle, exploratory touches of her lips against his, more loving than erotic, but with enough sensuality to cause the blood to rush to his groin and his pulse to quicken, especially when the warmth of her hand hit his thigh and her fingers meandered higher. He was short of breath, but not from physical exertion, when she pulled back from him and gave him a wink that was straight out of his own playbook.

Sighing contentedly, Leia looked down at her wrist but found no chrono; it was lying next to his gun-rig in their cabin. "Do you know what the time is?"

Han shrugged. He'd lost his own wrist-chrono somewhere underneath the bunk he-had-no-idea-how-many hours ago. He usually had an accurate internal chrono that helped him keep track of the artificially imposed day and night cycles of space travel, and a reasonable idea of flight duration, but that time-sense was as fucked as the rest of his mind and body.

"No idea. I guess it's the start of the day cycle if Chewie's just getting up." He indifferently raised a shoulder again. "Does it matter? There's still a shitload of time to do whatever we want."

She patted his head where she had been tugging on his hair, flattening it down as best she could. "Sorry, I interrupted you," she said. "You were telling me how we've arrived at the Fleet and you've told the Rogues to fuck off."

If she kept talking like that, Han was going to kiss her again. Or worse. Except it wouldn't be worse; it would be better. Much better.

Returning her hand to the small of her back, he directed his focus to the fantasy he'd been spinning. "I'm gonna march up to the command centre."

"March," she appraised. "That'll be a first."

He generously smirked at her again. "Thought I'd give you a chance to appreciate my ass, seeing as how much you love it."

"Oh," she enthused. "By all means then, march away to the command centre. I can always do with a little Han-ass action."

Han took a moment to shake his head at her before continuing. "I get to the command centre, demand to see Dodonna."

"Thump your fist on something" she suggested. "That'll go down well."

"Great idea." Han jarred his fist against the dejarik table. "Then I'll say, 'Dodders-'"

Leia stopped him again. "Too much. Try 'Jan', instead. Should piss him off even more, coming from you."

Han hauled both of her legs over his thighs, leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. Her hands slipped around his neck and he settled further into the kiss, loosely cradling her in his arms. He pulled back slightly, continuing to individually nudge her lips between both of his before telling her, "That's what I like about you. Always so helpful."

Leia returned his penetrating gaze. "I hope it's more than that."

Han wondered if she meant she hoped he _liked_ her for things other than being helpful, or that he _more than_ _liked her_ for her being helpful, or that he simply _more than liked her_. When she had felt him up while he'd been welding in the circuitry bay, she had admitted that she _more than liked_ _him_, that _she wanted what he wanted_. This could be her way of telling him that she wanted him to love her, and that she loved him in return. Or not.

"It's _more_," he assured her.

Unhurried, he kissed her again, took her upper lip in his mouth, then her bottom lip, back to her upper lip, slipped his tongue between her teeth, probing and affirming, as if kissing her for the first time.

More racket from down the corridor, most likely in the galley, interrupted them again. They shared a knowing look; it was impossible to make out in the main hold with Chewbacca within earshot.

Leia smiled at him. "You were saying?"

Han took a deep breath, picked up where he'd left off. "'Dodders—' I mean, 'Jan.'" He removed one hand from her back to point at himself. "'Your worst nightmare has returned!'"

Leia's face lit up and he knew he was onto a winner. His smug grin returned.

"'I have good news and I have bad news. The good news is I've brought Her Highnessness back, and I personally wanna tell you that we've been fucking since we left Hoth.'"

The delight in Leia's eyes confirmed this was a fantasy she was eager to partake in.

"Fucking like ash-rabbits since we left Hoth!" she cried, helping him to craft this imaginary confrontation.

He grinned at her. "'Me and Her Worship have been fucking like ash-rabbits since we left Hoth.'"

"Since _before_ Hoth," she embellished.

Han went along with the suggestion. "'Since before Hoth.'" He stopped and looked at her ruefully. "I wish!"

They shared mischievous smiles.

Han momentarily sobered. "You think I should say 'defile'?"

Leia touched his cheek, shook her head.

"Haven't I defiled you?" he pressed.

"No." Her reply was firm but gentle. "If anything, I've defiled you."

"Damn right," Han suddenly agreed. "I was a virgin before you seduced me."

"Ah, there's been too much fucking—"

"Too much fuc—" he protested.

"It's messed up your brain," she pointed out. "You've gotten our roles confused. I'm the virginal princess. Or I was. You're the creepy, stalker-type scoundrel."

He grimaced. "Nice to know you like me, otherwise I might feel offended."

He ploughed on. "I'll give him that shit-eating grin I know he loves, tell him there is no bad news because the fucking has been superb. Outstanding."

Eyes shining, Leia was giggling now, awaiting what he would say next. Han obliged.

"So outstanding, that the Alliance no longer needs to pay me to freight cargo cos the princess will be seeing to my particular needs from now on."

Immediately, he knew he'd gone too far. Something in her eyes had changed, something he couldn't identify. He suspected she was re-evaluating him: deciding if he was joking, making light of the fact that he repeatedly threatened to leave, or if he was serious and offering to stay with the Alliance and work for free; well, free apart from fucking with her.

Leia maintained her questioning study of him. "That'd be interesting to see. You as a kept man."

He hoped he looked as open and honest as he felt. "I'm already a 'kept man'. Just changing the boss."

For a moment he thought she was nodding in agreement, but instead she looked down, dropped her gaze to the neck of his t-shirt where her fingers were smoothing out a wrinkle in the fabric.

"I don't think you should smile at Jan when you say that," she said quietly.

The good humour of the mood was rapidly deflating. Han gave her a quick squeeze to buoy things up.

"I thought you liked my smile."

Her corners of her mouth lifted as her eyes returned to his. "I love your smile."

Turning in his embrace, Leia shifted her legs off his thighs and reached for her tea. Frowning, Han collected his caf. They both sat back in the lounge and silently drank from their mugs.

That hadn't gone the way he had hoped. He'd been too eager to rush the idea past her. It was clearly too soon for her to consider the type of commitment he was willing to make. He knew the way she operated: he needed to develop a plan, a solid argument, present it to her, and get her onboard with the concept and the strategy he had devised.

At present, there was no strategy, just a desire to continue making love with her. He was thinking too much with his dick, and his heart. Fortunately, as he'd told her, there was a shitload of time for him to sort this out.

Now that he knew it was the beginning of the day cycle, Han thought about heading back to the galley for breakfast, except Leia's reaction to his offer had dulled his appetite and he had no interest in rubbing shoulders with his miserable co-pilot.

_Chewie: poor bastard. Poor miserable bastard._

Chewbacca was becoming increasingly irritated with the human members of the crew. The Wookiee had initially been relieved that Han and Leia had taken the next step in their rocky relationship. That relief had turned into exasperation when they became so obsessed with one another, they ended up spending most of their time in bed or making out wherever they happened to be at whatever hour. Han had endured snide remarks and complaints from Chewie, particularly about the _reek_, as he put it, of human pheromones seeping into the structure of the ship.

Han had found it easier and less confrontational if he and Leia just stayed in their cabin and fucked around in there. But that also meant Chewie was effectively on his own and would be for the next three-and-half weeks, unless he wanted to head into the cockpit where Threepio was on permanent watch and strike up a conversation with the droid.

Part of Han was uncomfortable that his own good fortune was souring things for his friend, and he'd been considering offering to play dejarik with Chewie as a kind of peace token. He didn't particularly enjoy dejarik—in his opinion, it was too much like hard work and did not require as much skill as sabacc—but Chewie did, and the holo-chess table had come with the ship. So, he'd play dejarik, if that's what his friend wanted. Providing Chewie dropped the smart-ass attitude.

Han chanced a glance at Leia, hoping she wasn't annoyed or frustrated with him, that they could resume the banter and the making out. She seemed preoccupied, as if she had something on her mind; something on her tongue if the way her lips were twisting was any indication.

Han leaned down to bump her shoulder with his. She looked at him sideways, and her beautiful smile returned as she turned back towards him, pulling her leg up on the lounge cushion. He was grateful she appeared to be ignoring the way the previous conversation had ended and was not deliberately setting out to be angry with him, which was the way things used to develop between them.

"You know," she began, "you told me you hadn't slept with anyone for two years because you were waiting for me."

He hadn't quite explained it like that, and it hadn't been a deliberate act—it had just happened that way. Despite his early protests to the contrary, he'd been infatuated with her and had unconsciously stopped being interested in other women. The result: he'd had no sex for nearly two years. If Leia wanted to think it had been a conscious decision on his part, he wasn't going to sway her of that belief.

He raised an eyebrow, curious as to where she was going with this.

Leia tilted her head. "How did you satisfy yourself if you weren't having sex?"

The smile that slunk across his face was broad and knowing. Leia's focus had trickled back to sex and him. _That's my girl._

"I became a monk."

She playfully pushed her fingers into his ribs. "And the _Falcon_ became your monastery, did it, Brother Han?"

"I definitely don't wanna be your brother," he emphatically told her.

"Thankfully," she said, "there's no chance of that happening."

"Thank fuck for that."

She looked at him expectantly and he deliberately delayed responding to see if she would prod him again. When it appeared she was prepared to wait him out, he relented.

"I know how to take care of myself," he simply told her. "Most men do."

Leia's eyes sparkled. "Show me."

Despite the caf he'd been drinking, Han had to moisten a suddenly dry mouth. "Now?"

_Here?_ he'd almost added. Had Leia _always_ been like this and it had only taken the good luck of a slow ship to Bespin to bring out this side of her?

"What's wrong, Solo?" she challenged. "Afraid to show me what you've got?"

He grimaced. "I was gonna play dejarik with Chewie." Now he'd said it out loud, his idea of making amends with his friend sounded slightly pathetic: holo-chess or more sexual shenanigans with Leia.

Leia goaded him, "Instead of spending time with me?"

He made a pained face. "I was kinda feeling a bit guilty about Chewie," he explained. "Guy's only had Threepio or himself to talk to since we've been fucking."

The spark that lit her eyes dimmed. "You're right," she agreed. "I guess I was just being selfish. You'll have to show me another time." She dipped her gaze, mumbled behind a small smile, "Or not. It's up to you."

Han was torn: desperately and undeniably torn. Chewie was important to him, but so was Leia, and in an entirely different way. And although he'd spent nearly every available moment with her or near her since Hoth, and he knew there would be so many more moments to be with her, Leia had just suggested he show her something he'd never shown anyone. Ever.

This could be a sexual experience new for them both. Something they could share and explore together for the first time. The blood surged towards his groin at the thought of it.

"How about I play a few quick games with him," Han suggested. "I'll let him win so I'll be as fast as I can."

Leia smirked at him. "Not too fast, I hope." She reached for his hand, laced her fingers through his, then sensually slid her fingers up and down the length of his. "You know how I like it long, slow and hard."

Han inhaled deeply to stop his brain—and everything else—from overloading. Fuck, he loved this woman.

"You also like it short, quick and hard," he pointed out.

Leia made a _you-got-me_ gesture with her shoulders. "Anything with you is fine by me. As long as it's _hard_."

_I'll be dead by the time we reach the Fleet if she keeps this up,_ Han thought. _Death by fucking. What a way to go._

[How's my two favourite love birds?] Chewbacca asked as he entered the main hold.

Chewie's growl carried a distinct inflection when he was being sarcastic, and Han easily detected it in the comment. _Smart ass._

Leia released his hand, so Han moved it to the small of her back instead.

"Good morning, Chewie," she said brightly.

Han muttered his own greeting. "Hey."

Chewbacca brought his plate laden high with food and an over-sized caf mug across to the lounge and took a seat next to Leia. They drank from their mugs as the Wookiee tucked into the egg-fried bread and rashers of dried tilbong meat.

Leia caught Han's eye, gave him an apologetic smile, then swivelled her body back towards the table, politely including Chewie in their conversation.

"I'm sorry if we kept you awake last night, " she began.

Han thought that was a bold concession on her part, but he knew her and realised he shouldn't have been surprised by her audacity. _Balls of a bounty hunter,_ he reminded himself.

"Han can get rather loud when he's in the throes of passion," Leia seriously told Chewbacca, as if providing a formal debrief on their love-life.

The Corellian frowned at her unexpected, unashamed and untrue remark. Well, it wasn't completely untrue.

"I've thought about putting a pillow over his head to shut him up." She turned towards him, cupped a loving palm to his cheek, wrinkled her nose at him. "But it's such a pretty face. And I do so love that mouth."

Chewbacca guffawed, almost choking on his breakfast.

"Yeah," Han teasingly agreed. "I just love calling out my own name."

"That ego of yours knows no bounds." She briefly touched her lips to his to soften the jibe.

He grazed the tip of his nose against hers, deepened his voice and rumbled, "I'll show you what has no bounds, Sweetheart. You'll be holding on and screaming for mercy."

Leia hooked her arms around his neck. "Promises, promises."

[Stop, stop. Please,] Chewie entreated around a mouthful of food, pointing down at his plate. [I'm trying to eat.]

Even Leia managed to understand that complaint, particularly when Han added, "Me too."

The couple brazenly grinned at each other before Han got in a quick kiss and they reluctantly separated again.

Han and Leia were silent as Chewbacca resumed eating, sipping on caf and tea, but they continued to stoke the fire between themselves, adding fuel with teasing, sensual glances, touching feet under the table, running their calves against the other's, and leaning into one other. Chewie expressed his annoyance with grumbling, truculent sighs and shakes of his head.

As Chewbacca was mopping up the juices on his plate with the last piece of bread, Leia gave Han a pointed look and stood up.

"I think I'll go tidy our cabin," she told them, snagging up the datapad and her mug, leaving her socks behind on the lounge.

Her legs edged against Han's as she stepped to get out from the behind the table. Han didn't move so she readily slipped the backs of her thighs over the front of his, allowed him to place his hands on her hips and trail them down her bottom as she slid across him. She spun on her bare feet, gave him a short kiss and headed out of the hold.

Smiling to himself, Han collected his mug from the table and was drawing it to his mouth when he became aware of Chewbacca's inquisitive, knowing stare.

"What?" he defensively asked.

Chewie smacked his lips together as he finished his mouthful, then barked, [Don't you have somewhere you need to be?]

Han asked again, "What?"

Chewie gulped at his caf before adding, [Aren't you going to help your mate with the domestic duties?]

Han sneered at the Wookiee. "Hilarious. A regular comedian."

Chewbacca obviously agreed with his friend's assessment because he chuckled into his mug.

Drumming his fingers on the table, Han twisted his mouth and re-thought offering to play dejarik with the Wookiee. But Leia got the better of him, and he decided to carry on with his original intent and show some consideration towards his friend.

"So…what are your plans?" he asked, trying to sound indifferent.

The question caught Chewbacca off-guard. [Plans?]

"Yeah. What are you up to?"

Chewbacca eyed him critically. [Thought I'd drop into that beauty day-spa we passed a couple hundred-thousand klicks back and get the full hair treatment.] He bared his incisors then asked, [You? More copulating, I imagine.]

Han stared back him impassively. "I forgot how funny you are. You missed your calling. Should have your own holo-show."

[I do. Every night at twenty-two hundred. But you're usually otherwise engaged.]

Chewie stood, scooped up his plate and mug at the same time and explained, [First, I'm going to get a debrief from Threepio to make sure he's still operational and alert. Then I'm going to strip down the transpacitor and work on a few other things on the hyperdrive, so we're ready for Bespin.]

Han easily heard the condescension in his friend's growls. He'd been neglecting maintenance on the _Falcon_ since he'd been spending time with Leia, but he'd justified it to himself by arguing that Chewie was a capable technician and would be relishing the chance to spend all of his time working on the ship.

"Oh."

[And you?] Chewie cocked his head. [Still more copulating?]

Han brushed aside the accusation. "Thought you might like to play dejarik."

That pulled up the Wookiee. He waited for Solo to explain himself.

"Best of five. Fifty credits a game. Win any game in less than four moves, an extra fifty credits." Han's eyes shone with challenge. "How's that sound? Better than conditioning your mangy pelt with Quedji Sea mud?"

Han knew Chewbacca would be unable to resist a chance to cream him at dejarik, particularly if credits were involved.

Chewie thrust his dirty plate and mug up on the ledge behind the lounge and sat down again.

[Bring it, Corellian.]

"Kashyyykian moof-milker."

[Coronet scrumrat.]

Han feigned a pain to his chest. "Ouch. Nasty."

He grinned genuinely to show there were no hard feelings, but Chewie's eyes narrowed as the Wookiee stabbed his thick fingers at the controls, initiating the software starting sequence.

[Put your credits on the table.]

The eight holographic chess pieces materialised onto the inner orbit of the checkerboard, lining up for the selection and assignment phase to commence.

"I'm good for it," Han said reassuringly.

Chewie barked out a short laugh. [What meteorite shower do you think I came down in?] He pointed an accusatory finger at his friend. [I know you, Solo. 'Good for it.' I'm not some mark you can con.]

Han made a show of patting his t-shirted chest and the waist of his pocket-less sweatpants.

"No credits on me," he explained. "Must be in my other clothes, back in our—my cabin."

Chewbacca stopped adjusting the control panel. [Did you say, 'our cabin'?]

Han felt the flush redden his cheeks; he said nothing.

['Our cabin'?] The Wookiee cackled with delight. ['Our cabin'?]

"Have you finished?

Now Chewbacca did laugh. [Looks like my cub is growing up.] He reached across and ruffled Han's hair, much to Han's disgust. [I'm glad you and the Little Princess have decided to become bond-mates, but must you continue to copulate when you have no intention of creating a child? Unless…] Chewie's eyes widened. [_Are_ you and the Little Princess attempting to create a child?]

Han slumped forward onto the table, head in his hands, sending a flutter through the holographic monsters. "For fuck's sake, Chewie. Don't you dare ask Leia that. At least, not with Threepio around."

[What?]

Han pushed himself up again. "Humans like to fu—" He decided to use the word Chewbacca preferred to ensure he was abundantly clear. "—copulate cos it feels good." That was an understatement if ever there was one. And he really should have cleared this up with Chewie years ago. "And it helps us to…" He shrugged, unsure exactly how to express what it was the intimacy between Leia and himself felt like, what it represented, the importance of it to him, especially at this early stage of their relationship. "I dunno."

He leaned back out of the lounge, looking down the corridor towards the crew quarters, checking to see if Leia was nearby. He returned to his upright position, lowered his voice just in case. "I feel closer to Leia when we're like that. We fit together. Like she's a part of me that's been missing."

He was painfully aware he had never expressed such open emotion to his friend. "Leia…" He tailed off, struggling to work this thing out. "She makes me feel like…I dunno…like…like I belong. That someone cares about me." He held up a hand to hold off any protest. "I _know_ you care for me, buddy, but this is…different. Completely different. Leia is the most incredible woman in the galaxy. And she cares about _me_. How is that possible?"

Chewbacca was silent for a moment as he regarded Han. Then he said, [Sounds like you love her.]

Han grimaced, sighed, trying to relieve the ache within his chest. "I've loved her for a while. I'm _in_ love with her now."

Chewie tilted his head thoughtfully. [And what are you going to do about it?]

"I'm working on it," he admitted.

[Work faster,] Chewie suggested. [Don't leave it until it's too late.]

Han scrubbed his hands across his face and up into his hair, rumpling it until the ends stuck out from his head. "I know. I know"

Chewbacca fiddled with the dejarik controls. [Don't worry about your credits. I trust you.]

Han straightened his shoulders, sniffed and turned his attention back to the game.

"You can have first pick," he offered, referring to the process of selecting which holo-pieces they would play with; traditionally, they would both "roll" the board's digital die to determine who started first.

[I usually win that initiative, anyway.]

Han stared at Chewie, a wry grin turning his lips.

[But thank you for your generosity.]

"Yeah, well don't get too comfortable. I'm gonna smash your furry ass across the hold."

Chewie snickered. [The trouble with you, Solo, is you play your cards too close to your chest but wear your heart on your sleeve. And when you finally decide to reveal your hand, the game is long over.]

The Wookiee's words were painfully close to the truth. But Han wasn't about to let up on Chewbacca.

"Ah, my wise-ass, philosophical friend continues sprouting existential bantha crap." He scowled at him. "Make your selection, Wook."

Whether through good fortune, dumb luck, or Chewie being uncharacteristically kind, Han won the first game. The trouble with that was, it meant one more game he had play before he could track down Leia.

Chewie easily won the second game, with contrived resistance from Han. But when Chewie won the third in only three moves, the Wookiee eyed him suspiciously and grumbled that Han had deliberately lost.

Han held his hands up. "Got no idea what you're talking about, pal. You're obviously on top of your game and so much better than me."

Chewie folded his arms across his chest. [It's nice to hear you acknowledge that I'm better than you. But you still deliberately lost.]

"Shut up and roll the die."

Unfortunately, Han's roll produced a '6' and Chewie only a '2', so he had the first pick of the pieces.

Out of the Power pieces, Han chose the Monnok, recognising that although the Monnok's power, defence and attack ratings were equally balanced with its counterpart, the Mantellian Savrip, the Monnok was a smugglers' omen for a difficult but rewarding journey. Apart from the initial pursuit by Imperials, this flight to Bespin was proving to be particularly rewarding for Han.

For an Offensive piece, Han went for the blue Houjix. It had a less defensive but higher movement rating than the four-legged Ghhhk he left for Chewie, but Han liked that Houjix were gentle creatures usually kept as pets or guardians.

He grabbed the Kintan Strider for his Defensive piece, mainly because he had heard that the Ng'ok warbeast stunk pretty bad and he liked the idea of upsetting the Wookiee's olfactory sensibilities, even if the holo-piece itself didn't exude a scent. That'd serve Chewie right for complaining about pheromones and copulation.

His choice for the Mobile piece was a no-brainer. As with the other two times he'd won the selection initiative, Han chose Grimtash the Molator. This creature was from Alderaanian mythology, protecting the Royal House of Alderaan from corruption and betrayal. It had a less attack rating than the K'lo'slug, being the more defensive Mobile piece. The simple fact that it had a link to Leia made his selection apparent.

Han and Chewie alternated directing the holo-pieces to the outer orbit segments on opposite sides of the dejarik board, then faced each other across the table.

Covering his mouth with his hand, Han considered the board in front of him. Depending how this panned out, this would either be his last game, or his second last game. He was trying to develop a strategy to gracefully lose without it appearing too obvious, but his mind wandered, wondering where Leia was, what she was up to, and if she really was interested in him showing her how he'd kept himself occupied over the last twenty, long, excruciating months.

Han's fingers were indecisively hovering over the control panel when Leia's hand dropped onto his shoulder. Her touch was like a burst of sunshine through clouds on a cold, overcast day: warming and invigorating, encouraging him to bask in her glow.

Grinning like the love-sick idiot he knew he was, Han looked up at her. She returned his enthusiastic smile, before looking at Chewbacca and silently acknowledging him with a small incline of her head.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Leia turned back to Han, wrapped both of her hands around his, and gently tugged on his arm. Continuing to pull on his hand, she leaned back, drawing his arm with her. It only took a second for him to understand what she wanted. Han obediently rose from his seat, his eyes fixed on this vision of a bare-footed woman in his old sleep pants and t-shirt.

Without taking his gaze from Leia, Han conceded to Chewie, "You win."

Chewbacca snorted derisively. [Who wins?]

Han allowed Leia to pull him away from the dejarik table, up onto the step above the deck vents.

[Where are you two going?] Chewie asked, though it was evident exactly what was happening.

Keeping her hold on his hand, Leia spun around and walked him out of the hold and towards their cabin.

"Domestic duties," Han called out.

Chewbacca's braying laugh followed the couple down the ring corridor.

* * *

…2/

Dejarik rules: 3xw dot enworld dot org › forum › attachment


	2. Chapter 2

**Flying Solo**

_**by CorellianBlue**_

_(first published 2020)_

_Warnings: language; sexual content_

_-2-_

* * *

Without question, thought or further comment, Han followed the princess, his pulse ratcheting up with every step, every smirking glance from her. She remained mysteriously silent.

Leia led him into their cabin and sealed the hatch behind them. Han pulled her up against himself, dropped his face into her neck, caressing her skin with his, inhaling the scent of her.

"God, I missed you," he growled.

Leia clutched onto his biceps, momentarily overwhelmed by his intensity.

"I haven't been far away," she softly chided, smiling at his brash admission and the sensual sweep of his cheek and jaw against her neck. "Not long."

"Too long," he told her, his voice rumbling against her skin as he nibbled, hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses into her.

She melted into his embrace, arching against him, one leg slipping between his as she reached her fingers up into his hair, stretching her neck in response to the incredible things his mouth, tongue and teeth were doing to her. The blood rush to his groin nearly sucked all conscious thought from his brain, and it was pure lust and instinct that had him walking them towards their bunk, stopping as the backs of his legs hit the edge.

Leia had other ideas, and she managed to step away from his forceful hold.

"Shh…wait, wait, wait." She placed her hands along the line of his jaw, kissed away the confused look on his face. "You promised to show me."

Han's smile was as fervent as his intent. "It's not something I can just do. I need a bit of encouragement. Motivation."

He had already decided he'd show her this skillset another time. Right now, he was eager to thrust deep inside her. It had been too long. Probably at least seven hours, even if they had been asleep for nearly six of those.

His hips jerked as she suddenly gripped him through his sweatpants, but he quickly settled and leaned into her solid touch. He loved the way she fondled him so blatantly, and she knew exactly what to do to turn him on. When she held him like this, he injudiciously thought he'd gladly let her drag him around any Rebel base by his cock, regardless of who was looking on.

"Hmm…feels like you're getting enough motivation as it is."

He gave her his best prurient leer. "You show me yours, Sweetheart, I'll show you mine."

Leia lifted her chin, accepting his challenge. "All right." She released him, nodded towards the bunk. "Get comfortable and I'll show you how it's done."

She'd caught him flat-footed—or erect-cocked. He curiously complied with her direction. "Ah…okay."

As he settled into the middle of the covers, he noticed that she had made the bunk, probably changed the sheets, which was just as well as there was only so many times the mess they made could be wiped away with a washcloth. The rest of the cabin also had a less-than-dishevelled look to it, and a fresh, disinfectant smell wafted out of the refresher.

It occurred to him that she was cleaning up his life in more ways than one. At this rate, she would make an honest man of him by the time they reached the Fleet. _Hmm…big ask for anyone. Maybe not._

Leia gave him a serious, no-nonsense look. "You have to leave your clothes on until I finish. I don't want you touching yourself until I'm finished."

_Fuck._

She was really talking like this to him. All his fantasies—his wet dreams—were coming true.

He shuffled backwards on his rear, towards the head of the bunk, aiming to lean against the pillows. Except she requested one from him and dropped it at the foot of the bunk.

It appeared she had thought through the mechanics of this before, because without hesitation she moved to the closet and opened the now-shut door. She pulled the neatly folded, thick woollen blanket from the closet shelf and tossed it onto the bunk.

She reached down to the closet floor and collected the small, carbon fibre security locker he never used to store his blaster in, turned and asked, "Can I use this?"

From the way she grinned at him, Han was certain his mouth was hanging open.

Shrugging, he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "Ah, sure." He had no idea what she was doing.

Back at the bunk, she placed the locker on the covers, draped the folded blanket over it, then stacked the pillow on top of that. She paused to consider the height of her efforts, nodded, then in one smooth action, pulled the t-shirt over her head and placed that on the pillow.

It then dawned on him as he ogled her firm breasts, her erect nipples. She was going to fuck his pillow. Fuck his pillow with his t-shirt on top of it.

Han quickly performed an astro-navigation calculation in his head to stop himself from coming.

Leia slid the sleep pants from her legs and, naked, climbed up onto the bunk.

"I haven't done this for a while," she told him as she straddled the structure she had made, knees bent and pressed into the sleeping pallet.

"Ohhh?" His voice tripped along the scale from cavernously deep to squeaky high.

"Well, I haven't done it for a few weeks. And when I have done it like this, it's never been particularly successful."

"It looks fucking successful to me," he assured her, his eyes darting from the arch of her legs gripping the pillow, up to her breasts, her beautiful face, back down over the peaks of her nipples and returning to the apex of her thighs.

It was almost too much for him to take in. If the _Falcon_ was suddenly hit by a piece of rogue space junk that wiped them out, Han would die a happy man. A fucking, deliriously ecstatic, happy man.

Leia slowly rocked her hips, a motion he was familiar with when she rode him. Seeing her from this angle, less than a metre in front as opposed to him lying underneath her and looking up, he could now imagine exactly what she looked like perched on top of him, fucking him.

This woman—_his Leia_—was a sex goddess; he, her mere mortal sex slave. She could do whatever she fucking liked to him. He vowed to keep himself rock hard and ready for whenever she commanded him to perform to satisfy her desires.

The thrusting, grinding motion of Leia's hips had increased, and Han was doing everything in his power to stop from gripping himself and jerking along in rhythm with her.

_Not yet,_ he scolded himself. _Too soon. Too soon._

He straightened his arms, pushing his hands down into the mattress, clutching his fingers into the covers, resolved to behaving himself, as Leia had instructed.

Her necked bobbed, stretched; she appeared to be gaining some pleasure if the mellow look on her face was any indication.

"I first did this when I joined the Senate on Coruscant," she told him, riding the pillow. "I was 17 and suddenly dealing with these confusing emotions and arousals for a boy I was interested in."

_Of course, she did,_ was Han's instinctive reaction. It sounded exactly like something Leia would experiment with.

Like most teenage boys, Han had been experimenting with himself long before he'd turned 17. Not long after what he'd estimated to be his 16th birthday, a year before Leia had even become aware of her blossoming sexuality, he'd lost his virginity. He'd effectively being pimped out to a 30-something woman—at her request—by the crime syndicate he'd been indentured to. It had been an at first daunting, and then whirlwind week-long introduction to the pleasures of sex for him. He would be forever grateful to that shady businesswoman for being a generous and at times demanding teacher.

"My trouble," Leia explained, "is I've never been able to climax just doing this. It frustrated me for years, but I didn't know any better. Not even thinking about you helped. That is until–"

"Stop," Han interjected, blinking furiously.

Her hadn't meant for her to literally stop, but she ceased moving her hips.

"Reverse thrusters." He gulped deeply. "Thinking about me? When did this happen?"

"Hmm, let's see." She seemed to be counting back through dates. "Probably a year ago. Maybe a bit longer. I don't really know. I don't keep a diary of when I masturbate."

Han's brain was hurtling along at light speed.

"Explain it to me," he all but pleaded. "Ten months ago—"

"Maybe a bit longer."

He didn't know where he found the depth of character to forgive her for interrupting his desperate flight of thought, but he did.

"For over a year you've been humping your pillow and thinking about me?"

Leia gave him a smug smile that was worthy of the one he had been wearing lately. "Yes. But never climaxing. Even when I thought your name in my head."

_Fuck._

He'd died and gone to spacers' heaven. Or maybe not. What had he _missed_ _out_ on?

"Why didn't I know about this a year ago?" he almost whined.

"Because you were an insufferable, arrogant scoundrel and I wanted nothing to do with you."

That seemed to make no sense to him. "What's changed?"

He lips twitched in affectionate amusement. "Now you're _my_ insufferable, arrogant scoundrel, and I love fucking you."

He couldn't argue with that logic.

He went back over what she had admitted; he needed clarity, more detail. "And what did I do to make you think about me?"

"When you kept your mouth shut long enough for me to appreciate your face and your body uninterrupted, I usually then had to go and take care of myself."

Now he did whine. "Leiaaa. You're killing me here."

His erection was throbbing, struggling to break through the confines of his sweatpants.

"You want to know more?" she enticed.

"Yes." He sounded desperate because he was. "Whatever you've got."

"So, I couldn't climax until I became aware that I was going about things the wrong way. Plus, I also think I used to have a bit of a hang-up about masturbating. You know, the thought of parental interruption."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he assured her, "but please, carry on."

Leia looked at him with sultry eyes. "Do you recall a few weeks before we deployed to Hoth how you invited me to have a drink with you in the wet mess?"

He certainly did. It had been before the failed operation to Ord Mantell. He'd been trying to make his intentions towards her known. Luke had been off on a reconnaissance patrol, so Han had taken the opportunity of Leia being on her own to make his move. Compared to the _Falcon_, the wet mess on the base seemed a non-threatening environment and the meeting would be public.

Afterwards, Han had believed he'd totally botched things between them.

He'd impatiently waited for Leia to appear, even trying to blow off overtures from a cute female corporal who had previously suggested she'd be interested in him warming her bunk for her.

Leia had turned up an hour late, having been delayed by some task or other, and had been unsettled to find him trying to get rid of the other young woman. Despite this, they had shared a few drinks, and warm and invigorating conversation. He had declined her suggestion of a dance, as he hadn't wanted to reveal he had no idea how.

She had let him walk her back to her room in the officer accommodation wing. He'd kissed her good night on the lips, a reserved and chaste gesture by his standards that hadn't involved tongue or accompanying groping. For some reason he hadn't been able to work out at the time, nothing more had resulted from their encounter. It hadn't been until Ord Mantell that the passion between them had ignited.

Leia fluttered her fingers against her lips. "I couldn't get to sleep after you kissed me."

"That made two of us," he admitted. "I had to jerk off, _then_ take a cold shower after that."

She regarded him with wide, charmed eyes. "Aren't you sweet."

He pressed, "What did _you_ do?"

"Well, I set myself up like this." She motioned to herself and the seat she was perched upon. "Except on my footlocker at the end of my bed and with both of my pillows. As usual, I could only get so far before getting frustrated that it was not going to work for me."

"You should've called me on the comlink, Sweetheart," he said, waggling his fingers towards his ear. "We could've gotten to this stage a lot sooner."

She chuckled at his comment. "It suddenly occurred to me that I needed more stimulation—"

"Should've called," he said again.

"—and was wondering if there was anything I had that might help. Then I recalled that you had given me that multi-tool—"

Han had to stop himself from laughing and interrupting where she was heading with this.

"—after you _complained,_" she eyed him intensely as she emphasised the word, "about having to come around to my quarters to repair something every week or so."

"Well, I was repairing your stuff all the ti—" His eyes widened in comprehension.

"Because I was breaking my 'stuff all the time', genius."

He felt like an idiot. "I'm a slow learner."

She grinned at him. Yes, I know."

"Multi-tool," he eagerly pressed.

"Multi-tool," she acknowledged. "Rather aptly named. Nice and cold to the touch, with a lovely, rubberised hilt and handle."

Han suspected he knew what she was going to tell him, but he wanted to hear it from her unprompted.

"I put it on the pillow, between my legs. Moved along it." She swayed her hips forward to demonstrate the motion. "Shiveringly cool. Invigorating. Except for the very thoughtful ridges on the handle. And the stimulating bulge at the hilt. And wouldn't you know it, I tripped the switch and it started vibrating."

At this point, Han realised he probably should've been embarrassed. But he wasn't. He was achingly aroused.

"Should've called," he sang. "I have a proven track record with service and repairs."

"Yes, I believe you have told me this before. And I'm still awaiting your quote."

She was, of course, referring to his offer to service her with his _special_ toolkit. Han scribbled a hurried, mental note to follow up on that. Meanwhile, he desperately needed more details.

"Did it help?" he asked.

"Yes, it did," Leia replied, "thank you for asking. But not fully. I wasn't completely satisfied."

"You're a very discerning woman."

She arched an eyebrow at him and continued. "I had this idea of lying down on my bed and inserting your multi-tool inside me while visions of you danced in my head."

Oh gods. She _was_ trying to kill him! "And did you?"

She looked rather pleased with herself. "I did."

Han hoped he wasn't drooling. "And you realised it wasn't a—well, not _only_ a multi-tool...when?"

"When it took control and started twisting, vibrating and pumping inside me on its own volition, and then massaging my clitoris."

What he wouldn't have given to see _that_.

"AI," he explained straightforwardly. "It was working out what you liked."

"A lot like you then."

"Smaller than me," he protested. "At the time, I didn't know what you'd enjoy. Now I know you're just greedy."

Leia reached a hand to tug at his socked foot. "Baby, I'd rather have the real thing any day."

Han shook his head ruefully. "I'm glad I was able to help you out there, Princess. At least one of us was satisfied that night."

"Not completely _then_," she continued with her explanation. "I only fully climaxed when I went back to my pillow and rode your multi-tool as if it was your cock."

Han was almost panting he so badly needed the answer to his next question. "Did you think of me?"

Leia's response was both loving and erotic. "That night, I said your name out loud for the first time. Came straight away."

_Oh…fuck…_

Han straightened his arms to keep himself from toppling over completely. He hated to think what the inside of his sweatpants looked like.

"After that, well...me and your little multi-tool became quite good friends."

"Where is it now?" he wanted to know.

Leia frowned at him incredulously. "I didn't exactly have it on me in the Command Centre, Han."

"Why not? That was a present from me."

She shook her head and shrugged. "I imagine it's with the Fleet, assuming my belongings made it onto the transport. Otherwise, the Imperials might be rather surprised if they've found it vibrating somewhere under all that snow."

That seemed like another damn good reason to make it back to the Fleet and stay with the Rebellion. Han needed to get his hands on that multi-tool and try it out on Leia.

Han briefly closed his eyes. He was a glutton for punishment, but he had no self-control when it came to this woman.

"Have you used any other props?" The pitch of his voice was climbing upwards again.

Leia shook her head. Then stopped. "I've been thinking…"

She suddenly scrambled off the bunk and headed towards the desk. She removed the blaster from his holster and placed it down. She stopped again, checking to see he was watching her, before sashaying back to the bunk with the gun-rig draped across her shoulder.

Han gulped deeply. _Oh…fuck…_

She arranged the gun-rig on the top of the pillow, placing it so the leather strap attaching the holster pouch to the belt had prime position.

Leia caressed the leather. "I've always been slightly envious of the way your gun-rig gets to ride your thigh all day. Though, that's a bit like me now, wouldn't you say?"

_Fuck, yes._

He'd say anything she wanted him to say. Except right now, he was lost for words. Too much blood was currently pooling in his groin for him to be able to think, let alone speak.

She straddled her seat again, widening her legs around the pillow, then, holding his gaze, lowered herself down onto the strapping. She ground herself against the leather, slow, circling movements of her hips that left him mesmerised, aching, throbbing.

He nearly came undone when she closed her eyes and softly moaned.

Her gaze and smile gradually returned to his.

"Now when you wear this," she said, "you can think about me."

He didn't need for her to have done _this_ for him to think about her, but he greatly appreciated the effort she had gone to.

Leia rose slightly, slid the holster out from between her legs and passed it to him. He took the gun-rig in both hands, staring at it as if it was prized artefact, more treasured than any glitzy Medal of Bravery she had presented to him on Yavin IV.

"You haven't come?" His remark was more questioning wonder, just in case he had missed something.

"I told you this never works properly for me," she reminded him. "Besides, you'll make it up for me. You always do." She shifted off her seat. "I'll be back in a moment."

Leia hopped down onto the deck and headed into the 'fresher. She returned with a damp washcloth and to find him holding the leather up to his nose.

"You've got it bad for me, haven't you?" she cheekily asked.

Bad? He would _die_ for this woman. She'd already killed him numerous times over the last few days.

"You have no idea," he solemnly replied.

She moved to wiped down the leather with the cloth, but he pulled the gun-rig away from her.

"Na-uh. You can leave it the way it is," he insisted. "I'm more than fine with it. I love it."

After all she had brazenly done to destroy him, she smiled at him demurely. "Okay, your turn."

Han didn't need to be told twice. He dropped the gun-rig onto the bunk beside him and yanked down his sweatpants. His swollen erection jutted out from his groin, the head glistening in the light from the glow panels.

"Now _that's_ what the right sort of motivation can do for you," Leia remarked, climbing back onto the bunk next to him.

He hurriedly stripped the t-shirt over his shoulders, and it landed somewhere behind him.

He was reaching over towards the bunkside niche when Leia tapped his foot.

"Socks?" she asked.

He looked mildly affronted. "Why? They don't get in the way."

"You're going to masturbate in front of me, with your socks on?"

He made a _So?_ gesture with his hands, then relented and pulled them off as well.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much," she agreed. "I love to see all of you. Even your hairy toes."

Han adjusted the length of his legs down the sleeping pallet as he grabbed the tube of personal lubricant.

"And what's gotten you to this point?" Leia asked.

His response was swift. "You."

"Apart from me. What specifically have I done to make you want to…?"

When she didn't finish her sentence, he helpfully added, "Jerk off. Wank. Stroke the yoke."

"You sound like a teenage boy."

He shrugged. "You wanted to know."

She was watching him expectantly, desire mixed with anticipation. He couldn't believe any of this was going to happen; any of what _had_ already happened to him. There was no way he could've imagined when he pulled her out from the Command Centre on Hoth that this was where they'd end up.

Leia elaborated, "Have we had an argument? A minor disagreement?"

He almost glowered at her. "I never got hard when we fought, Leia. What kinda misogynist asshole do you think I am?"

She looked at him contritely, caressed his thigh to apologise. "Sorry."

"'S'right." He took a deep breath to centre his thoughts, or what remained of his reasoning processes. "All you had to do was look at me a certain way. Accidentally brush against me. Ask me how I was. That was enough. It was always enough."

He squeezed the lubricating gel into his left hand.

"How much gel do you use?" she asked.

"Trial and error," he honestly told her. "Use too much, and you lose the friction. Once or twice that's happened to me, and I've sat here jerking away for what feels like hours, nearly exhausting myself and just not able to finish the job."

She grinned at him. "You should've called me, Sweetheart."

"Don't you start."

He gently wrapped his hand around himself. He closed his eyes as he felt himself throb at the intimate touch and stopped, aiming to stave off the climax he could feel sneaking up around the corner. After making out with Leia in the main hold, and then watching her pleasure herself, he was about ready to explode.

But she had asked to see him do this, so he was going to take things as deliberately as he could. And hopefully finish off the job inside her because that was what he enjoyed the most. _That_ was the real thing.

He focused on her face as he stroked his hand up the length of himself, took a breath and stopped again. He didn't know what was more intoxicating; watching his hand slide up his erection, or the captivated look on her face.

She nodded at the way he held himself. "Is that why you bend to the left? Because you use your left hand."

He chuckled at her observation. "That's a curve, Sweetheart, not a bend. mauz fruit are bent. And, no, that's just me. A lotta men curve slightly to either side. It's how you use it that counts. As you would know."

He raised his hand slowly up the length of his erection, bumped his fist against the ridge and slid it back down towards his groin. He did it twice more, watching the fascinated look on her face.

"And why do use you use your left hand?"

He wasn't entirely sure, because he was right-handed, so he said the only thing he could think of. "Cos, I shoot with my right. Gotta be prepared at all times."

Leia smirked. "Hmm...that's an image I'm not sure how to deal with."

Han decided to build on the imagery to see how far he could push her. "You should see the accuracy of my target practice when I do this," he suggested with a lascivious wink.

She encouraged him, "I trust you're not too quick on the draw."

"This is different," he promised her. "I'll always take my time with you. Or as long as you want me to take."

He picked up the pace, aiming to show her what he did, but with no intention of coming. Not like this. Not with her sitting next to him and without having quenched her desires. He'd vowed to be her sex slave. He wouldn't let her go unfinished.

Leia unexpectedly straddled his shin, just below his knee, and his stomach tightened. A rush spiralled down from his throat toward his groin and back up again. He came to a crashing, jerking halt, his fist jammed firmly up against the ridge, the head of his cock tingling. He gasped, fighting back the undeniable urge for completion.

"Did I do that?" she asked with mock-innocence.

He tried in vain to form a coherent sentence—a coherent thought—but he was too concerned with fighting what appeared to be a losing battle.

He had no idea what he was doing as he compliantly allowed her to unclench his hand from himself and she took over.

"Is this what got you hard, Han," she asked. "Imagining me doing this to you?"

She slowly slid her hand up him, then down.

_Fuck, yes._

This was _exactly_ the fantasy that had kept him going for two years. In his sex-starved, sex-craved mind, he and Leia had spent many pleasurable hours together, doing just this.

Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.

"Aah…ahh..." The pleasure/pain was almost unbearable.

He leaned back, dropped to his elbows. Her hand was a hot brand on his chest as she pushed him back further until he was lying at an angle on the bunk, head and shoulders raised on the pillow. She slid onto his thigh, nudged his legs apart with hers, knelt over him.

A coldness suddenly enveloped his cock and he realised the dampness was the washcloth Leia was wiping across him, removing the lubricant gel from his shaft.

His confusion faded, as she dropped the cloth, dragged a finger across the head of his cock, scooping up his pre-cum.

"What does this taste like," she impishly wondered, placing her finger in her mouth. "Mmm," she told him, repeating the action, "you taste like Han. Here."

She planed up across his stomach and chest, sandwiching his erection between them. Leaning into him, she reached up and smeared the fluid across his lips, slid up higher and kissed him.

Han moaned as her tongue flickered across his mouth and then speared into it, her lips stretching his, moving his, making him kiss her back. Completely at her mercy, his hips shifted up, lifting, aching for her to continue stroking him, his arms a deadweight by his sides.

…none of this was real…none of this _could_ be real...they were all dead…smashed to pieces in the asteroid field…

Leia slid back between his legs, the friction dragging down his cock in a delicious, shivering motion. She waited for his gaze to return to hers.

"Or perhaps this is what you thought about when you were 'jerking off' in your bunk," she suggested.

She leaned towards his arousal, placed a delicate kiss on the head.

…dead...all of them…twisted scraps of durasteel…body parts drifting in the vacuum of space…

He licked his lips as his watched her, mouth opened in anticipation. She rewarded him with a warm, wet stroke of her tongue that left him quivering.

"Fu…" He couldn't even mutter his favourite obscenity.

Another lick, then she took him fully into her mouth, a hot, devouring sensation that scorched his soul. His moan was louder, anguished, his head and shoulders flopping into the pillow.

Leia continued tugging her hand up him, stroking him as she licked his length. This was not a first for him. But it may as well have been. This was Leia doing this to him. If only those condescending pricks in High Command could see her now.

Her tongue moved back up him, across the glans, mouthing the smooth head again, raking him against her teeth. Her other hand cupped him lower, massaging his testicles, as if judging their weight.

Then she started sucking.

Suck, release, suck, release.

His extremities tingled, fingers and toes numbed. This was going to be shattering when he allowed it to overwhelm him. But he was desperate for it never to end; in the back of his mind, he was almost half-afraid the dream would end, he'd wake up, alone and frustrated in his empty bunk.

There was also another reason for him not to give in just yet. He couldn't be selfish. He wanted Leia to be satisfied as well, and while she looked like she was enjoying herself, she had not yet climaxed.

Han finally found his voice. "I don't wanna come in your mouth," he pleaded.

Leia had been intermittently watching him, gauging her success by the reactions on his face and the sounds he made.

She stopped and asked, "Why not?"

"Wanna make you come," he croaked.

Her responding smile was appreciative. "Just lie back and enjoy it," she directed.

She grabbed the self-sealing tube of lubricant and squeezed the gel onto her fingers. He felt her fingers sneak along his crease of his perineum, softly caressing, exploring, determining if he would protest.

He didn't. He'd had this done to him before, but then he'd also paid good credits for it.

Her nail traced the circumference of his passage. She nudged a finger inside him. His muscles spasmed, contracting around her finger. He gasped, shocked at her boldness and the intensity. A second finger inserted, twisting, pumping gently.

Her hot, wet, succulent mouth enveloped him again, and she sucked in time to the movement of her fingers. His hips lifted off the bunk as he reached for her head, one hand in her hair, the other feeling the way her cheeks hollowed and filled as she took him as far into her mouth as she could, bumping the head of his cock against her gums, scraping his skin with her teeth.

He wanted to watch her. God knows he wanted to. But he couldn't focus. Pinpoints of light sparked across his vision. He screwed his eyes shut, surrendered himself to her.

He stopped resisting. His whole body trembled as he capitulated to the ecstasy coursing through him, pliant in her hands, succumbing to whatever she wanted to do to him.

He became incandescent. Lighting struck through him, running down his spine to his groin where exploded in bliss, pain, joy and shock at the ferocity.

His mind blanked, but there was enough instinctive compulsion for him to open his eyes and watch as Leia sucked on him.

_Fuck…_was the only thing he could think as she swallowed his fluid, her doe-like eyes attentive and responsive to his release.

Heart pounding, he shuddered as the endorphins surged through him and he collapsed fully onto the bunk. He was only distantly aware of Leia climbing over the top of him, until he felt her tug on his chin to open his mouth. Her tongue moved across his mouth, painting his fluid onto his lips in broad strokes, before spiking down and dribbling it across his teeth and gums, making him taste himself.

A wave of unfamiliar emotion choked deep in his throat as he returned her kiss, his lips and tongue fumbling against hers as she coaxed him into a response.

Resting her fingers along the angle of his jaw and chin, Leia finished with softer, gentler kisses to mouth, his upper lips, the sides of his nose, the scar across his chin. She snuggled into the side of his body, one leg hiked up over his hip, her hand splayed across his chest.

Chest heaving, eyelids fluttering, Han had just enough awareness to be able to drape his arm around her shoulder, pull her closer, and mash his lips against her forehead.

_Do _not_ tell her you love her now,_ he warned himself. _ She won't believe you. Just think you're saying it cos she gave you the best blow job you've ever had._

But how could he not love her after that? They had shared one of the most intimate and selfless acts he could imagine.

When he had caught his breath, he asked her, "Where the hell did you learn that?"

Leia leaned back into the curve of his shoulder and looked up at him. "I've been doing some research."

"Research?" He was incredulous. Either Leia had read up on that before she'd come onboard—revealing a side to her he'd wished he'd known about—or there was some seriously interesting shit in the _Falcon's_ databanks that he'd never known existed. He wouldn't have put it past Calrissian to keep that sort of information on hand.

Leia's fingers twirled through a few hairs on his chest. "Your ship has been offering me advice, giving me ideas. All I did was put in a few search terms."

Han was not in the least bit surprised. "My ship is a degenerate who should be helping to get the hyperdrive working."

She leaned up on him so she could look into his eyes. Her gaze was solemn and hopeful but tinged with unease.

"If the hyperdrive was working," she told him, "then none of this—us—would be working."

He tilted his neck up so he could nudge her lips with his, putting all the love he had for her into the kiss. She was right. Damn, she was right.

They separated and he said, "I'm glad the hyperdrive is fucked."

Her smile was hesitant, her voice lightly joking. "You're just glad _you're_ fucked."

"You really believe that?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't. I know you now. I wish I'd known you sooner."

She settled back into his embrace, and although they continued holding each other, they could no longer return meaningful stares. It became easier to find the right words.

"All things considered, I'm glad this has happened," Leia said quietly. "It's been…incredible."

"This is the best thing that has ever happened to me," Han confessed. "_You're_ the best thing that has ever happened to me." He decided to try his hand again, because if not now, then when. "I don't want to lose this." The tightness in his chest had moved up into his throat. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't. _We_ won't." She was adamant in her assertion. "I have this feeling, that whatever happens, we won't lose each other."

Han wanted to believe her, wanted so desperately to believe this would work out. He wished he had her optimism; her belief in a bright future; her sense of justice and faith in a greater good. But he'd been around long enough to know that life was seldom fair. The best he could do was hold on tight and live for the moment, like he always did.

For now, for him, that meant lightening the mood.

"What do you think Dodonna'd do if he knew you just did _that_ to me?"

Leia poked him in the ribs. "Don't get your hopes up. I'm not ever going to be doing _that_ to you under his nose, so he'll never know."

Han's one-hyperlane mind was racing again, plotting a new trajectory. "Ooh, that's got me thinking."

From the way she tilted her head back against his shoulder, he could tell he had her attention.

He set the scene for her. "High Command conference centre. You've finished some high-level, strategic-bullshit meeting, and you're on your own in the room, working back like you always do." There was a confident swagger to his voice. "I turn up, unannounced, like a bad credit chip."

"Like you always do," she joined in, tracing his jaw with her finger.

There was no doubt in his mind: he loved this woman.

"I seal the hatch, set the lock. Of course, you're not surprised I'm there."

"Of course not," she agreed. "We've arranged this beforehand. I've been waiting for you. That's why I've stayed behind. Why I'm pretending to work."

He could almost picture it in his mind. "I see you sitting there, looking as sexy as hell."

She sounded doubtful. "In my uniform?"

"Makes no difference to me what you wear," Han explained. "You could wear a vacuum suit and you'd still make me hard."

Leia groped a hand onto his crotch; he didn't flinch, so accustomed to her touch he'd become.

"Doesn't feel hard now," she sniggered.

He exaggerated his exasperation. "You've just finished completely destroying me. At least give me a few minutes to recover and catch my breath."

"All right," she conceded. "But only a few minutes."

He steered them back on target. "So, I'm hard before I even get up to the conference room, cos I know why you want me there."

Leia said exactly what he wanted her to say. "I want you there because I want you to fuck me. Right there on the table. Where we've just been meeting."

"Clothes off or on?"

Leia considered his question, responded, "On."

"Good. It'll be quicker to get started."

"Mm…that's right," she crooned. "You're quick on the draw."

"Better believe it, Sweetheart." He gave her a quick squeeze. "I come up behind you."

"I know you're there, but I want to see what you'll do. I'm aching, waiting to see what you'll do."

"Aching?" he asked.

"Aching," she insisted. "Always aching for you."

He mentally released a breath. He loved this woman.

"I put my hands on your shoulders, kiss you on the side of your neck."

"Only kiss?" She sounded disappointed.

He immediately amended his action, this time reaching his arm behind her head so he could stroke his fingers along the erogenous area running down from her ear. "I suck and bite the side of your neck."

"Do you leave a mark?"

"You can see where my teeth have been, and the skin is red. Probably bruise by the time we finish."

He felt her shiver further into his side as she told him, "I love it when you're a bit feral."

"If only High Command knew how feral you can be," he softly admonished.

"They will by the time we finish in the conference room."

Yes, he loved this woman.

"There's no need for us to talk," he continued. "We both know why we're here. Both know what we like, want we need. I know you like me to take my time, but not now or here."

"I want it hard and fast," Leia urged.

"I'm gonna give it to you hard and fast," Han assured her.

"I turn around in my chair because I want to see you, your face." There was tender desperation in her tone. "I need to see your face. And I want you to kiss me."

Han rolled her against the bunk, turning over the top of her until he nestled between her thighs. Her arms went around his neck, legs spreading around the sides of his torso as he hovered above. He watched the desire spike in her eyes as the firm planes of his abdomen pressed into her core.

There was heat in the kiss, tongue and teeth, and he nipped at her bottom lip as they parted. So soon after his release, and already he could feel himself hardening again, like a man ten years younger. What Leia couldn't do to him wasn't worth knowing about.

"I push you up onto the table," he rumbled, "run my hands up your thighs."

Leia looked up at him in wry amusement. "How are you going to get my trousers off?"

She had him there. "Hmm…"

Leia came up with the solution. "While you're standing there, looking at me, I pull my boots off, and slip my trousers and underwear off."

"Leave your underwear on," he growled. "I wanna pull 'em off with my teeth."

She chuckled at his request. "Okay, they're back on."

He picked up where he'd left off. "I push you up onto the table, run my hands up your thighs, and wonder why the hell you didn't take your undies off at the same time. Now I have to eat 'em off."

Leia laughed and Han seized the moment to slip further down between her legs and place his open mouth against her pubic bone. She arched up into him, gasping.

He spread apart her hot, moist flesh with his fingers, took a moment to appreciate how incredibly blessed he was to be lying here, between her thighs, about to worship her again. She was red, swollen, visibly wet, and he was the cause of her arousal. The nub of her sex quivered, beckoning him to taste her. He gratefully obliged, lapped his tongue broadly up the length of her.

He was rewarded with a deep moan that murmured into a sigh of his name. "Haann..."

He loved her. Completely. Utterly. Desperately.

He was now familiar with her body and knew it would not take much to push her into climax. He would gladly take as long as she wanted and needed.

He knew she didn't need further stimulation along her lips, but he could not resist, angled his tongue to delve into the folds and valley. Hands clutching the bunk's covers, her hips tilted up, following the motion of his tongue.

He reached her clit, circled his tongue around it. She moaned his name again.

Although she wouldn't need it, he briefly pulled away to place two fingers in his mouth to lubricate them, then returned to nipping and sucking at her nub. His belief was confirmed when he easily slipped one large finger inside her warmth and she contracted around it. A second finger followed, and her hips bucked against his mouth. He pumped his fingers harder.

She was mumbling his name, almost incoherently, when she reached down to tangle her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as she forced herself against his exacting tongue.

Her body tensed, muscles clenching around his finger, and he closed his mouth firmly around her, sucking, pulling and twirling her with his tongue. Her rhythmic cries of his name lurched into a high-pitched keen, melting his insides but not his resolve. He continued pushing her until she careened over the edge into a twitching, jerking release.

Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and more than satisfied with his work, Han pulled back from her thighs and allowed her to enjoy the rush that overwhelmed her, knowing that she was always hyper-sensitive and jumpy about being further caressed or touched.

When she looked down towards him, he took that as his cue to return to her thighs, his chest now pressing into her and allowing most of his weight to rest against the bunk. He lay his head between her breasts and held her onto her.

"Thank you," Leia told him, lovingly ruffling his hair through her fingers.

"Any time," he replied. "But next time, I want you to tell me what to do, okay?" He felt her nod, but he could tell she was a little confused. "I like you telling me what to do," he further explained.

He heard the smile in her voice. "I'm certain I can accommodate you."

"I knew you would."

They lay together like that, drifting, enjoying the easy silence between them with no need or compulsion to talk, the sounds of the ships sub-light engines roaring in the distance.

Han realised he had dozed off when he heard Leia say, "What happened to you giving it to me hard and fast in the conference room?"

"Plenty of time for that," he mumbled into her skin.

And indeed, there was.


End file.
